It's Not Breakfast at Tiffany's
by wayward-tiger
Summary: Part 1 of Tribulation Nation. A/B/O, homophobic language, mentions of future mpreg. Unbeta'd.


Dean spots his father sitting at a corner booth at the far end of the restaurant, nursing a hot cup of freshly brewed coffee. He nods at the hostess that's waiting to seat him before he points his finger in the direction of his father's booth, "Thanks, but I'm meeting someone," Dean walks past the front counter and strolls past the countless empty and un-bused tables before he reaches his father's.

Without a word he slides into the opposite facing booth and pulls up a menu. His father's eyes tear away from the morning paper and glance over at his son seated across from him, "What took you so long?"

Dean's been to this particular diner several times in the past and already knows what he will and will not order, so he flicks the menu down onto the scratched table surface and looks up at his father's scruffy jawline, "Sorry, I had to drop Cas off at work."

"You're still seeing him?"

Dean grits his teeth and digs his nails into the meat of his palm to stop himself from snapping and starting a fight with his old man. They've been through this same song and dance many a time, and Dean's heart just isn't up for it today, "Yeah, Dad, I know it's a shocker, but I'm still seeing my husband."

John takes another long, sloppy sip from his mug, "Y'know he's not really your husband, Dean. You can't call that pretend dress-up ceremony a real wedding."

The hairs on Dean's neck raise and he can feel anger beginning to bubble under the surface of his calm demeanor; always the same fucking thing with his Neanderthalic old man. Again, Dean forces himself to take a deep breath and remain calm, "Well that's your opinion."

"It's a fact, Dean. The law doesn't recognize it, and neither do I."

Dean falls back into the plastic cushioning of his booth seat and breaks the mood with a long sigh and an eye roll, "Why did you want to meet with me, Dad?"

Quietly agreeing to the change of topic, John folds the newspaper he had previously spread out on the table, and tucks it away on his seat before speaking, "It's your mother's birthday this weekend."

A moment of silence drags on and leaves Dean feeling annoyed and anxious, "Yeah?"

"I think it'd be nice if we could have the family together and give her a good old-fashioned surprise party," John's features soften and a ghost of a smile plays on the edge of his lips, "We can have both of you boys and Jess there to help sing the birthday tune."

And there it is again, another dig at Dean's relationship with his husband, "Cas can come, too. We made sure to take the weekend off just in case."

Dean can visibly see John's shoulders tense at the thought of having his son's partner in attendance at his wife's birthday celebration. But John bites his tongue and continues, "You need to think of something to give to your mother as a gift."

Dean nods his agreement, thinking over possible gift ideas in his head before John starts off on another touchy tangent, "Your mother would love it if you settled down and gave her some grandkids, Dean."

Dean's quick to retort, "I am settled down."

Their eyes meet and they hold their stare briefly before Dean's instincts tell him to back down and drop his gaze.

"We're thinking of starting to try for kids, though."

John shakes his head and grumbles, "You can't make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with no peanut butter."

"That doesn't even make any sense."

"Don't sass me, Dean." John's voice takes on a low rumble, "You know damn well know what I mean. It would break your mother's heart to not see you have kids all because you're hung up about not having relations with an alpha. You need to let yourself be open and give it another try—there are good men out there."

"I've found myself a good man, Dad, I don't know why you can't see that…"

"An omega."

"I'm an omega. Are you saying I'm not a man because of it?"

"That's not what I'm saying."

"Well it sure as hell sounds like it."

A waitress approaches their booth and cuts off the heated bickering with an awkward smile, "Can I get you boys anything else?"

"A coffee and a refill, please." John says without once looking up at the waitress. Dean feels it's his obligation to give her some semblance of recognition by smiling and thanking her.

Once the young waitress has left, Dean leans forward in his seat and rests his elbows on the table, "We don't need an alpha for a baby."

"'The hell you don't."

"It's called artificial insemination. We've been looking into it for a while and Cas and I think we're gonna do it soon. Probably within a month or two."

John has nothing to say and just stares blankly out at the surrounding restaurant tables.

"I hope you're not such a pigheaded dick when you wind up becoming a grandfather," Dean spits before he scoots out from the booth seat and drops a five dollar bill on the table.

Dean begins walking away from the booth but is quickly stopped by the sound of his name being called by his father, "Dean, if you're coming to Mary's party, try to dress a little nicer, hmm? No need to come off as so butch."

That's the last straw for Dean. He doesn't have the energy to turn around and say anything in return, so he continues to walk away and out the restaurant's door.

So much for a nice father-son breakfast.


End file.
